


blessed are the merciful

by SegaBarrett



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:17:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon and Ramsay meet on the battlefield.</p>
            </blockquote>





	blessed are the merciful

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones, and I make no money from this.

Theon is running, sword in hand, raining blood down on Winterfell. 

Coming home, in a way. But he’ll never truly be home, will he? It’s all different, jumbled up, images in his mind that he can’t put in any kind of a sensible order.

There are people behind him, following him, but they all fade away as he narrows in with hawk-like certainty on one man, lying on the ground.

He doesn’t look much like the Ramsay Bolton he suffered under for upwards of a year. He’s not holding a flaying knife, nor a whip. He’s not holding anything except his stomach, from which blood is tumbling out. He’s bent double, but not crying out, at least not loudly.

His teeth have worn a hole in his bottom lip.

Theon stands there, gaping, unsure of what to do. He’s pictured a scene a hundred times in his head where he slit Ramsay Bolton’s throat, or slowly tortured him, or chopped his head off. He’s gone to sleep thinking of his revenge and rolling it over in his head, a mantra that helps him know where he’s going each day, the path that he’s tried to set himself on.

Now, he drops to his knees and looks around. In the chaos of the battle, no one has paid attention to Theon Greyjoy.

“M’lord. Lord Ramsay,” he whispers. The words come easy to him – what else would he call him? This man who has been tormentor and benefactor, lover and torturer for all this time… 

Ramsay’s eyes flutter open; he doesn’t seem to understand. He’s murmuring words, but most of them don’t really make any sense, up until…

“Reek?”

And Theon gives a slow, measured nod. He doesn’t trust his voice to reply, not now, not yet. 

“You’re here?” Ramsay continues. His throat sounds dry, probably filled with blood, probably choking him.

“I’m here.” 

Theon wants to shut his heart off, to get the revenge he has thirsted for all this time.

He takes Ramsay’s hand in his mangled one, and he waits, without another word, until Ramsay Bolton’s eyes close.


End file.
